


take me, touch me

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Cock Worship, Dirty Talk, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10966959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: There's nothing small about Cook. Archie loves how much bigger he is, how all-encompassing his embrace feels when he wraps Archie in the circle of his arms. Cook likes to make all of these jokes about his weight, how he needs to hit the gym more often or whatever, but Archie loves the solid bulk of him, the firmness of his arms and broad shoulders, the girth of his thighs and the soft swell of his stomach, the way it feels to be surrounded by his scent and touch and taste whenever he presses Archie down into the bed or against a wall.





	take me, touch me

**Author's Note:**

> A few months ago I was prompted with ‘size kink.’ That’s it, that’s the fic. Mind the warnings, folks – this one earns it’s NC-17 rating! Title from Archie’s _Things Are Gonna Get Better_ , because what are those lyrics, Archuleta, seriously.

Archie's not a big guy by any means, lacking the height and the build to make him anything but slender. "Compact," Cook likes to joke, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him in close. "In fact, if you were any smaller I could carry you around in my pocket." Cook says that's one of his favorite things about him, that he's the perfect size for Cook's arms to fold around or lift up, if the mood strikes him (which it does, frequently), which kind of makes Archie feel like a human teddy bear or something.  
  
There's nothing small about Cook. Archie loves how much bigger he is, how all-encompassing his embrace feels when he wraps Archie in the circle of his arms. Cook likes to make all of these jokes about his weight, how he needs to hit the gym more often or whatever, but Archie loves the solid bulk of him, the firmness of his arms and broad shoulders, the girth of his thighs and the soft swell of his stomach, the way it feels to be surrounded by his scent and touch and taste whenever he presses Archie down into the bed or against a wall.  
  
And though it makes his face flame to even think about it, he loves Cook's cock, too: how big he is, how _full_ Archie feels whenever Cook is inside him. It's not really something he'd ever expected about himself, how desperate and needy he becomes whenever he feels the heat of Cook's length against his ass or his thigh or his tongue, but um, he really can't help himself?  
  
The first time he'd felt it, that unmistakable bulge in Cook's jeans pressing against his inner thigh as they lay wrapped around each other, sharing deep, messy kisses in Cook's bed, the strength of his own lust had surprised Archie. He'd felt a hot flush of arousal and need as he'd realized how _big_ Cook was, and had wanted, suddenly and with a fierceness that shocked him, to see his boyfriend bare – to see all of him – without any constricting layers of denim in the way.  
  
He'd been too shy to say anything then, had only been able to convey his longing by pressing forward softly, curiously, against the bulge encased in Cook's jeans, rolling his hips in slow circles against Cook's clothed erection and sucking ravenously at his boyfriend’s tongue in a fit of desire.  
  
Cook's response had been _amazing_ , a throaty growl rumbling against Archie's lips before he'd pulled away with a wet pop, eyes liquid and dark as he'd rolled Archie onto his side, pressing up against his back. Archie could _feel_ him then, the swell of Cook's dick against his ass, and he'd moaned shamelessly as Cook had reached around him, slipping his hand (huge and warm) over Archie's side until he could cup Archie's own length through his pants, rubbing slowly as he ground his hips in slow, teasing circles against Archie's backside.  
  
It hadn’t taken long – Archie had come first, the stimulation against his cock and the sensation of Cook's length pressed up against him, even separated by frustrating layers of clothing, too much. His voice had cracked on a trembling moan as his orgasm crashed over him, and he'd reached back with a hand that shook to tangle his fingers in Cook's hair, the other fisting the sheets beneath him as Cook groaned and stilled against his back in the throes of his own climax, Archie's name falling in a deep sigh from his lips.  
  
The first time Archie had seen Cook bare, held the firm length of him in his hands, it had been all he could do not to _stare_. He had spent an indeterminable amount of time just wrapping his fingers around the base, trailing them along the thick shaft, curling his thumb against the slit and thrilling at the beads of precome that swelled to the surface at his touch.  
  
It had taken a strangled groan from Cook to break Archie from his trance; he had jerked his head up with a start, heart pounding, to see Cook looking at him with surprise and arousal and a sense of wonder that Archie knew had been reflected on his own face.  
  
"You really like this, don't you?" Cook had asked him, his breath short and his cock twitching in Archie's hold.  
  
Archie had swallowed noisily, the growing slickness against his thumb leaving him breathless. He’d felt so strange, so _hungry_ , his filters gone, totally obliterated in the wake of Cook's hot, heavy length against his palm. "Y-yeah, _yes_ , I – Cook, you're so – " His words had failed him then, warmth pooling in his belly as he’d wrapped his fist fully around Cook's cock.  
  
Cook had seemed to understand, had yanked him forward and swallowed Archie's needy whimpers with his own lips, wrapping his hand around Archie's until they were stroking him together, hot and wet and _perfect_.  
  
Archie can't explain it, doesn't know why he goes all shivery and desperate when he's holding Cook or feeling Cook sinking into him. It's a little embarrassing, how dumb he acts whenever Cook slips his briefs over his hips and bares himself to Archie's gaze, how his mouth practically waters once he sees that familiar length, how wanton and wild he acts whenever Cook prepares him, because he _wants_ , so badly, to feel Cook pressing inside, savoring that familiar stretch and ache as Cook moves within him, filling him up.  
  
It's like nothing Archie's ever felt before, nothing he can even describe. It's like... he feels complete, sharing that sort of connection with Cook, feeling him inside, slick and hot and um, huge. The first time they had sex, even after Cook had worked him open so thoroughly, first with his fingers and then with his tongue, Archie had never thought he'd be able to take it all, had thought that there was no way Cook would even fit inside him.  
  
But Cook had been so careful, had moved so slowly, stopping at even the barest flinch from Archie, even when Archie could feel the tension in his shoulders and back, could see Cook's fight for control written all over his face, in the clench of his jaw and the sweat beading on his brow – even then, Cook had been so careful, pressing inside one slow inch at a time until Archie could feel him, all of him, Cook's balls flush against his ass, knees digging into the mattress, Archie's thighs splayed around his hips.  
  
There's nothing better than that feeling; Archie aches for it whenever they're together, but especially when they've been apart, because to him, sinking down onto Cook's cock, or feeling Cook sinking into him, that feeling of fullness and the pleasant, aching burn of his body stretching to fit Cook like a glove – within that moment, he feels _whole_.  
  
So when Cook comes back after two months on the road, his last show wrapping up just a few miles from home, Archie is barely able to wait until they're inside the house before he's tangled around his boyfriend, arms wrapping around Cook's neck and mouths pressing together in a kiss that lacks any sort of finesse, messy and deep but all the more perfect for its desperation. He'd been on edge throughout Cook's show, tucked away in the back of the venue out of view of the fans, watching the stage lights play over the broad span of Cook's shoulders, watching them glint off the elegant curves of Cook's guitar, watching Cook's lips purse against the mic as he sang.  
  
"Bed," Cook gasps, tearing his mouth away and drawing in a few quick, panting breaths. His fingers knot in the hem of Archie's shirt, and Archie shivers as his lower back is exposed to the cool air, goosebumps breaking out along his spine as Cook's callused fingers brush against his skin.  
  
Archie doesn’t even register the trek from the front door to their bedroom; all he cares about is the warmth of Cook's skin beneath his palms, the scratch of Cook's stubble against his mouth, his throat, his collar, the slide of Cook's tongue against his own –

  
– and beneath that, the swell of Cook's cock against his thigh, a heated brand that sears Archie even through their clothes. He wrenches free of Cook's embrace to sink gracelessly to his knees, yanking at Cook's belt buckle with a fervor that he feels down into his bones; it's that familiar desperation, that strange aching hunger to feel Cook's rigid flesh beneath his tongue, to taste him, to look up and see Cook's dark, molten gaze trained on him, only him, to see that same wonder and desire reflected in Cook's face that he always wears whenever Archie's in this position.  
  
It's no different now; Cook's eyes are dark and shiny, half-lidded and tinged with arousal as Archie pulls his belt through the loops of his jeans and tosses it aside, wriggling his fingers beneath the waistband to pull Cook's pants and underwear down the solid columns of his thighs and finally baring his cock to Archie's hungry gaze.  
  
Archie can't suppress a whimper at the sight of it, drawing in a shaky breath as his eyes trace the trail of auburn hair below Cook's navel, down to the thatch of curls between his legs and the thick length of his erection, the head swollen and red and curving toward his stomach.  
  
"Archie... " Cook whispers, voice hoarse and choked with need, and Archie jerks his gaze up to his boyfriend’s face, heat pooling in his stomach at the blatant desire in Cook's dark eyes.  
  
"I want – " He wets his lips, wrapping his palms around Cook's thighs and leaning toward his prize, his breath gusting over the swollen head and making Cook twitch.  
  
" _Yes_ ," Cook hisses, his head falling back against the door as Archie wraps a hand around the base of his cock, parting his lips and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the slick, pulsing head.  
  
He groans at the familiar taste, darting his tongue out to lap at Cook's straining flesh for more of it, salt and skin and musk combining to form a potent cocktail that makes Archie's heart race and his groin throb. This is what he’d been craving while he’d watched Cook perform earlier, what he’d been imagining while he squirmed in the dark – the scent and feel of Cook's sex, the heavy weight of it in his hands and beneath his tongue.  
  
Cook's hips surge, the head of his cock brushing against Archie's cheek, and Archie glances up beneath heavy lids to see Cook's lips parted, breath coming in heavy pants already, his gaze rapt and sex-drunk.  
  
Archie holds that gaze as he parts his lips against Cook's cock, wrapping them slowly around the moist head and humming at the pungent, salty flavor that washes over his tongue. Cook hisses out a curse, his hands fluttering over Archie's shoulders before they settle on the back of his head, fingers sinking into his hair, and Archie closes his eyes, content to relish in the heavy weight of Cook's prick, the tang of Cook's precome thick on his tongue, and the pulse of Cook's arousal as Archie's mouth sinks down around him.  
  
He'd had to learn how to take Cook this way, how to relax his throat and work past his gag reflex to swallow Cook down. He loves how it makes him feel, the soreness in his cheeks and at the corners of his mouth as he works his tongue over Cook's flesh, the way his eyes will sometimes water when the head of Cook's prick hits the back of his throat.  
  
He loves what it does to Cook most of all, the way he can _feel_ Cook steadily losing control, the tension visible in the flexing of his thighs and the stuttering thrusts of his hips, the way his mouth falls open, breaths thick and heavy, his chest heaving as he draws in air.  
  
The way he gasps Archie's name, voice low and hoarse and shot through with desire, sending a bolt of white hot longing to the pit of Archie's stomach, making his body ache with the need to be filled, to be _taken_ –  
  
He pulls his mouth away with a wet pop, a thread of saliva trailing from his lips to Cook's slippery cockhead for a moment before it breaks; his mouth feels wet and achy, his body hot and thrumming, each scrape of his jeans against his trapped erection making him hiss at the pleasure-pain.  
  
"Cook," he croaks out, his voice a husky rasp. There's no disguising the lust in it, or the way his hands shake against Cook's skin as his fingers curl into his boyfriend’s fleshy thighs.  
  
Cook sucks in a breath, reaching for Archie and yanking him to his feet without preamble. He crushes their mouths together, his tongue pushing through the seam of Archie's lips to tangle with his own, and Archie's groin throbs as he realizes that Cook is tasting _himself_.  
  
"Want to fuck you," Cook rasps in the heated space between their mouths, lips barely a hair's breadth from Archie's. He stuffs his hands beneath Archie's shirt and grips his sides, fingertips rough against Archie's skin, and Archie nods his head helplessly, leaning up to reclaim Cook's lips.  
  
It's a frantic stumble from there to the bed, their clothes falling away in a trail behind them until they fall in a tangle of naked limbs to the mattress. Archie writhes beneath the solid bulk of Cook's body, winding his arms around Cook's neck and curling his legs around Cook's hips, blissful moans falling from his lips at the sensation of Cook's cock against his own. He could come just like this, rubbing off against Cook's body, writhing against that impressive length, slick and hot and _close_ , but he wants more, wants to feel Cook _inside_ , so he bites his lip as Cook pulls away for a moment, reaching over to the bedside drawer and rifling inside, the familiar sound of a cap popping echoing in Archie's ears before Cook returns, his fingers slick and slippery and curling in the hot space between Archie's legs.  
  
Archie arches beneath Cook's touch, spreading his thighs to give Cook more room to maneuver. Despite their urgency Cook is slow and thorough as he prepares Archie, applying generous amounts of lube before slipping his fingers inside, but Archie doesn't want _slow_ , doesn't want _careful_. His body is too shivery and hot, a slow pulsing ache in the core of his belly that's begging Cook to push into him _now_ , and he makes his impatience known by pumping his hips and fucking himself back onto Cook's fingers, whining when Cook grabs his hip to slow him down.  
  
"Archie, baby – " Cook starts, stroking his skin in slow, soothing circles, but Archie won't be calmed, doesn't want it. He wants _more_ , and he digs his nails into Cook's shoulders as he urges him to give Archie what he wants.  
  
"Just get in me,” he gasps, eyes wild, limbs slick as they wrap around Cook and pull him closer. “Please, Cook, please – "  
  
Cook bites out a curse, a garbled " _Fuck_ " against Archie's shoulder, and hurriedly pulls his fingers free. "Turn over, baby," he coaxes, his voice husky and low. “On your side.”  
  
Archie groans and does as he's told, curling his knees up towards his chest as Cook settles in against his back and luxuriating in the sensation of Cook's chest, broader and hairier than his own, pressed warmly against him. His hand curls into the sheets as Cook reaches between them; he can feel Cook wrapping a hand around himself, huffs out a sharp breath as he feels the head of Cook's cock, huge and hot and slippery with lube, press against his entrance.  
  
Cook hooks his chin over Archie's shoulder, his stubble rasping against Archie's cheek and his breath coming fast and hot, and Archie turns his head, blindly seeking Cook's mouth as Cook begins to sink into him.  
  
The stretch and resultant ache sends a burst of arousal to the pit of his stomach, heating his blood into something molten, running fast and hot through his veins. He gasps brokenly into Cook's mouth, breathless with the strength of his lust. It sates something deep inside of him, that hungry, wild longing to be spread open, pushed into, filled up, as Cook pushes past that ring of muscle and sinks in, in, _in_.  
  
"Fuck," Cook whimpers, mouth slack against Archie's once he finally bottoms out. Archie echoes him with a choked off moan, sinking his teeth into Cook's bottom lip and soothing the bite with flicks of his tongue. Cook's hand trails over his ass, his thigh, and Archie circles his hips hopefully, his fingers twisting in the sheets as Cook's fingers dig into his skin, stilling him. Frustration and urgency swim through his blood, his body thrumming with the need to move, to feel Cook thrusting into him, hitting that bundle of nerves that will make him see stars. He doesn't want to _wait_.  
  
"Move," he mewls, thighs tensing and stomach shivering with anticipation, unable to resist clenching down around the hardness filling him up. Cook's hips stutter at the movement, grinding against his, and Archie gasps out, " _Yes_ , oh gosh, Cook, that’s it, _move_ – "  
  
His voice, so breathy and demanding, seems to snap Cook's tenuous control; between one breath and the next he's pulling out of Archie's body, the drag of his cock inside making Archie's breath catch on a broken moan, and then thrusting back in, barely giving Archie a chance to breathe before he's repeating the action, again and again and again.  
  
Archie can't focus on anything but the sensation of Cook's thrusts, the burning ache in his thighs and the continuous shocks of pleasure shooting through his body, making his abdominal muscles clench and his breath stick in his throat. He doesn't even know that he's speaking until he hears a breathy chant of, "Yesyes _yes_ ," and realizes it's coming from him.  
  
Cook presses a biting kiss to his lips, his huge palm moving from Archie's hip to his stomach, pushing Archie back into each hard thrust. He's talking, too, his voice harsh and low, deep with arousal and hunger. "God, you're so fucking _tight_ , look at you, sucking me in, wanting me inside. You do, don't you, Arch? You always want me inside, filling you up, fucking you like this, so fucking deep, god – "  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Archie moans, voice cracking in the middle as Cook fucks him with abandon, all traces of hesitancy or caution gone. And his _voice_ , oh gosh, so deep and throaty against Archie’s ear – coupled with the squelch of Cook’s cock sinking into him and the slap of skin on skin, it’s like a shot of liquid fire straight into Archie’s veins. “Yes, always, always want you inside, _Cook_ , please, f-fuck me, fuck me – “  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Cook nearly shouts against his shoulder, fingers digging into Archie’s belly before he shifts, pulling away, pulling _out_. Archie whimpers at the loss, but it’s only temporary; Cook’s turning him onto his back, pushing his thighs apart and sliding between his legs, thrusting back inside with a strangled curse. “ _Archie_ ,” he groans, knees braced on the mattress as he pumps his hips, his palms wrapped around Archie’s thighs, holding him open, oh gosh, Archie feels exposed in the best way, every inch of him bare to his lover’s eyes, his touch. “Baby, you can’t say things like that, Christ, you’re so – “ Cook breaks off with a garbled whimper, leaning down to press his mouth to Archie’s in a biting kiss; it’s messy and deep, tinged with desperation as their pleasure climbs, and Archie whines as they devour each other.  
  
“Want you,” he gasps between increasingly frantic kisses, heart racing and breath sticking in his throat – he’s surrounded by Cook, encompassed by him, and Cook is so _deep_ inside of him, the thick, long length of him encased in the heat of Archie’s body. There’s nothing like it, there never will be, and he wants it all the time, wants it so _badly_.  
  
“Yeah?” Cook grunts against the hollow of his throat, the skin beneath his mouth tender and tight. Archie knows there will be a bruise there later, added to the array of them already blooming to life along his hips and thighs – the thought of it makes him _ache_. “Want me to make you cum? Huh, Archie?” One of his hands slides from Archie’s thigh to his belly, firm against the quivering abdominal muscles, until he can wrap his fingers around Archie’s cock.  
  
Archie cries out, a choked, breathless “ _A-Ah!_ ” as Cook’s palm slides against his shaft, over the swollen cockhead and back down again, his grip slippery wet and so _hot_. Archie knows he won’t last, not like this, not when Cook knows every minute twitch and shiver of his body, knows exactly how to touch him to make Archie lose control, and he’s close, he’s so close –  
  
And Cook’s still _talking_ , voice molten and whisper-soft as he nears his own climax. “God, feels so fucking good, Archie, _baby_ , you feel so good inside. Gonna make me cum, gonna fill you up, baby.”  
  
Archie nods his head desperately, helplessly, reaching for Cook, needing him close, _closer_ ; his lover falls into his embrace, releasing Archie’s thigh to curl his fingers around Archie’s cheek instead, their mouths meeting again and again. “Please, please,” Archie whimpers between messy kisses, fucking into Cook’s grip, rolling his hips to meet Cook’s increasingly frantic thrusts. “Fill me up, want to feel it, want you to cum, please, baby – “  
  
“Fuck, fuck,” Cook bites out, his beard rasping against Archie’s mouth and chin as their kisses turn breathless and wild. They’re wrapped in a cloud of heat, of sweat-soaked limbs and grinding hips, the creaking of the bed and their cries for more, harder, just a little more, please –  
  
Archie’s moan of completion is lost against Cook’s mouth, his thighs and stomach muscles twitching as his orgasms crashes over him in wave after wave of heat and perfect, perfect bliss. Cook jerks him fervently through it, his fingers smearing cum down the length of Archie’s pulsing cock, uncaring of the fluid that spurts onto his stomach and drips to the bed below.  
  
Cook’s mouth goes slack against his a moment before he reaches his own climax, spilling into Archie with a deep, hoarse whine. He shudders through his own powerful orgasm, shaking as if his body is falling apart, and Archie grips him tightly within the circle of his arms, pressing kisses to his damp brow and hot, ruddy cheeks. The aftershocks are long and nearly as intense as their coupling had been, and they lay in exhausted silence for a few moments as they struggle to catch their breath.  
  
Archie’s body is slow to come down from its high; he shivers in satisfaction as he takes stock of the pull of each overworked muscle, the ache of forming bruises along his thighs and hips and buttocks. His toes curl as he feels Cook softening inside of him, excess fluid slicking his thighs and making a mess of the bed.  
  
Cook holds him close, tells Archie hoarsely that he loves him while they share deep, wet kisses and their heartbeats slow, and Archie hums in contentment in the space between their swollen lips, his restless, aching longing finally satisfied.


End file.
